The Disguise
by practically geriatric
Summary: "I have an idea!" Holly said, excitement on her face. "This is going to sound silly, but we'll be able to kill two birds with one stone. Lockwood, Lucy - the two of you should pretend to go on a date!" Locklye short story.
1. Chapter 1

All hail J. Stroud, author of Lockwood and co.

Also, I'm pretty sure I got the idea for this from pinterest or tumblr or something. So mad props to that person. Please accept my theft as flattery, should you happen to read this.

This story has nothing to do with any of the others I've published.

I have updated this first chapter, and added a second one. A third to follow. I won't promise anything more than that.

...

CHAPTER ONE

Holly brightened. "I have an idea!"

Lucy had a feeling she would not like this. So far, all they'd come up with was the tourist ploy, but that would never work. After the trial, everyone knew of how they'd disguised themselves in order to infiltrate the Winkman's antique shop. They needed to find a way to tail some of Marissa's lackeys, but so far were at a loss as to how to get away with it.

"We can't be relic men again," Lucy said sourly. "Those folk never come out before dark, and whatever these henchmen are doing, they're doing it in broad daylight."

"Just listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but we may be able to kill two birds with one stone." Holly had an excited look on her face and continued speaking, ignoring Lucy's response. "Lockwood and Lucy, I think the two of you should pretend to go on a date."

Lucy could hear the skull's laughter from the other room. _Oh, that's rich. That's brilliant. So_ that's _what those two have been whispering about the past few days_. Lucy didn't have time to dignify that with a response

She fought against the blush raging across her face, barely choking out a comeback. "Holly - that's… that's ridiculous. They'll _never_ believe that."

"Actually, I think they will. Some of the gossip magazines have been asking if Lockwood has a girlfriend - even my friends from Rotwell think there's something going on. Guy as charming a Lockwood, it's odd he doesn't seem to have a personal life. But I really think the two of you would be brilliant - I've never been much of an actress. Besides," Holly looked pointedly at Lockwood, "think of the publicity. You remember when Rotwell's son began dating that debutant? We were inundated with requests."

Lockwood, who had until Holly's suggestion been brimming with energy, certain he would be the one to come up with a solution, now sat quietly in his chair.

He looked to be considering it.

George spoke up, his eyes glinting even though his face continued to have all the emotional capacity of pudding. "You have a point there, Holly. Most people have a tendency to look away from public displays of affection. The more awkward they are, the less likely they are to be watched."

"George, you can't be serious!" Lucy was embarrassed to hear her voice at such a shrill decibel.

"And if they _are_ seen, everyone will think it's just the famous Lockwood out on a date with his leading lady," Holly added.

" _I'm_ the leading lady, now am I? Lockwood, tell me they're being crazy. Tell _them_ they're being crazy."

"Luce...well, they sort of... maybehaveapoint."

All the blood drained from her face, making her dizzy. "What?" she whispered.

"We're losing money. I have a suspicion that Fittes is choking off our clientele. When was the last time we had a full week of cases? Not to mention anything deserving the kind of attention that Chelsea brought in."

 _You should see your face!_ The skull said viciously, cackling _. You've gone from red to white to yellow in a matter of seconds...What's the matter, never been on a date before?_

"It'll be fun!" Holly said. "I can get you all dressed up! There are lots of restaurants in that area - you can get a table on a patio to keep an eye out."

Lucy was not going down without a fight, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to win this battle in the first place.

"Why don't you do it then, if it's going to be so much fun?"

"I'm a terrible actress."

"That's a terrible reason."

"Lucy," Lockwood interrupted, "I'm not that repulsive am I?" He asked with a shy smile.

"What? No! That's not what I meant. It's just… I don't really want some rag reporting on my pretend personal life. And… and I don't think that's really the kind of publicity you want...and… yeah." It was the best argument she could come up with, but it was a valid one. She'd glanced through some of those mags. They were detestable.

"If you want, we can stage an argument after this is all over. They'll think we've broken up, and then they'll leave us alone. It'll just for a short time. We don't really have any other way if Fittes is interfering."

Lockwood had obviously made up his mind. "That doesn't make it any easier."

"You know I respect you Luce, but… this is the only plan we have, and it's even halfway decent. I promise, at any point all you have to do is say the word and we'll stop. We'll make sure they don't say anything in poor taste."

"How do you know they won't treat me like that actress? The one who shaved her eyebrows off? They called her wretched things for weeks."

"That won't happen. I've talked to the press on many occasions, and I'm sure they won't have anything bad to say about you."

She curled her lips in, holding back her reply for just a few more seconds. Finally, she relented.

"Fine."

And then he smiled at her, confident and brilliant.

"Let's make it official then. Lucy, would you go on a date with me?"

"I just said I would."

"I'm making it official. Play along."

"Yes, Lockwood… I'll go."

"Brilliant."

…

They sat side by side on a park bench, spring air drifting about and promising rain. Lucy's hair was slightly ruffled by the wind. Holly had had a field day, not only with the hairstyle but also with finding a dress and doing her makeup, showering her with compliments the entire time. Lucy even believed one or two of them.

She and Lockwood left 35 Portland row a few hours ago. He'd been relaxed, as if pretending to date one of his coworkers was something he did every day. Lucy had never been more nervous. Running into the Other Side seemed like a cakewalk compared to this. Or jumping off a building. Or facing the Red Room. Nevertheless, she had finally been able to relax _slightly_ over lunch as they watched for Marissa's lackeys. Having a job to focus on helped, but it was hard to stay anxious when she was with Lockwood- especially when he kept flashing that smile of his. The one that twisted her heart just so.

The timing at the restaurant could not have been more perfect - the two hulking men in jumpsuits came out of the office building just as the waitress brought the check. They followed them here, holding hands and making googly eyes. The bench faced the men, but was far enough away that neither party could hear the other. A lush tree on Lucy's side gave them some shade to hide in, but not much.

Suddenly, Lockwood moved, one hand cupping her face and the other going to her waist. She tensed, unsure of how to react.

"They're looking this way," he whispered in her ear, his face hidden from them by her head. "Can you see what they're doing?"

"No, your hand is blocking my eye." she replied, his ear right next to her mouth. He shifted his thumb, trying to keep her face covered so they wouldn't recognize her. His hand was warm. Her heart was pounding. There was a boiling hot sensation in her gut, and it threatened to make it's way to her face in a blush.

"Um, Lucy…" He whispered, "You might want to wrap your arms around me… or… or something."

"Oh. Right. Yes." She moved her hands, one gripped his shoulder for dear life, the other went around his waist. Trying to regain some self control, she refocused on the two men. "They're standing by a tree. The tall one is keeping an eye out. The other seems to be looking for something."

"A Source?"

"Maybe."

"Do you See any Death Glows?"

"No, but that's not really saying much. I don't have your Sight, remember."

"Right, we'll need to switch. See how my hand is on your face? You'll have to do that to me."

"Got it."

"Also… there are some kids watching us. I think they've recognized me."

"Great."

"Think you could giggle or something? Pretend I just said something funny."

Lucy made a noise that sounded nothing like a giggle. Lockwood covered the sound with his own forced chuckle and took her hand, bringing it to his face as they shifted so he could see.

He kept his hand on hers, stroking it with his thumb.

It took every effort she had to continue to think straight.

She was facing the wrong direction, and so was unable to see the kids Lockwood had mentioned.

"Someone's coming." She murmured, trying not to sound as alarmed as she felt. Her nerves were already standing on end.

"There is definitely a Death Glow over there. What does he look like?"

"Can't tell details, but he's wearing the same jumpsuit. If there's a ghost haunting the tree, it could explain why they're working in the daylight."

"Good thinking. I see him now. He's talking to the other men. They're heading for a post near the sidewalk, directly behind you. There's another Death Glow over there, too. Blast, this bloody tree is blocking them now. We'll have to move - I can't see a thing from here."

"Want to check out the tree?"

"That's probably for the best. Hopefully the post will keep them busy for a few minutes." He stood, using her hand to guide her up and led her to the tree, once again placing the men in his line of sight.

"Sense anything?" He asked quietly.

"Give me a moment." She touched the tree, reaching out with her inner senses. Lockwood kept an eye on the men.

A few moments later, the memories of the death associated with the tree began to play out in her mind. She took a deep breath and let go, then leaned against the tree for support. This one happened to be an unusually jarring experience.

"You okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"What happened?"

The death had involved two lovers. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about at the moment. "I don't really want to repeat that one just yet. It was rather tragic. I'll tell you when we get back to the house."

"Want me to cheer you up?" He took out a knife and winked. "I'll just set our love in stone, shall I?"

"You're really milking this."

"It'll give the rags something to talk about. Now lean against the tree there and keep an eye on the men."

She did so. "Won't Marissa be suspicious if our initials show up on her tree?"

"Probably not. Besides, it's not her tree. It's ours now. It'll have our names on it and everything."

"Your confidence is overwhelming."

"As it should be." He stepped back, facing the tree. "What do you think?"

A minute AJL+LJC was carved into the bark.

"That," she said, "Is the corniest thing I've ever seen. You really can't top that."

"Challenge accepted."

And then he picked her up.

And spun her round.

She cried out, first in surprise and then in delight. She landed, giggling despite herself, facing the tree. He hugged her, whispering again in her ear.

"They're moving on. I can't tell where they're headed."

"You're a real charmer."

"It's one of my better qualities."

They began walking, his arm casually slung around her shoulder.

"Mr. Lockwood!" a woman called. She was middle aged, with sharp features and a functional hairstyle. She wore a smart pencil skirt and stark white blouse, matched with a grey blazer jacket. "Could I have a word, please?"

"Ah, Miss Wool… of the Daily Dish, if I remember correctly?" Lockwood flashed her a smile.

"That's correct. If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to meet this fair lady on you arm. Readers have been hoping for a scoop on your love life since day one. You're _quite_ the mystery." The woman looked Lucy up and down appraisingly. Lucy glared at her in reply. She did not appreciate being treated like an item for sale.

"Miss Wool, as you can probably tell, now really isn't an opportune time. I'd be happy to introduce you to Lucy when I'm not on a date with her." He replied dryly. Lucy wasn't sure, but she thought she detected a real displeasure in his voice. "Please schedule an appointment with Holly and we will gladly join you for a full interview. "

"That's all I ask."

"Now, if you'll excuse us?"

"Of course. Enjoy your _date_. Lucy, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our little interview." There was a glint in the woman't grey eyes that Lucy couldn't understand, but she immediately decided she didn't trust her.

"Good afternoon," she muttered through gritted teeth.

The woman sauntered off. Lucy felt Lockwood tense before he said, "They're gone."

She looked around, and saw that he was right. "Did you see where they went?"

"No, you?"

"No. I was trying not to stab that woman."

"Ah, yes. She can be… interesting."

"Wasn't she the one who called you arrogant last month?"

"Yes."

"Are we really going to have to give her an interview?"

"Holly knows not to accept calls from her. This isn't the first time she's attempted to get information from me. She makes most of her living from scandal. Believe me, it's not the scoop of our relationship she's after - it'll be some kind of information she can publish about one of us so that we break up. I've seen it done several times over the years. She'll try to use that interview to drive a wedge between us."

"Sounds almost as evil as Marissa." They were walking again, his arm still around her.

"Indeed…" He trailed off, considering something. "Speaking of which, she and Marissa are known associates. I don't think she's ever published something about Marissa herself, but Marissa's enemies... Do you think she was a distraction?"

"What? Do you think they noticed we were following them?"

"It's likely. We'll come back tonight and see if there's anything noticeable about the tree and the post. I don't see any other Death Glows in the area, except for some animals."

"Sounds like a plan. Where are we going now?"

"About that… Wool isn't really the publicity we're looking for, but if we go closer to downtown, we're bound to be seen, especially if we look like we're trying not to be noticed. There's this ice cream shoppe I know of..."

"Ice cream is hard to say no to."

"I thought so, too."

…

LIP LOCKED WITH LOCKWOOD

By: Maisey Tells It All

Yesterday afternoon, yours truly witnessed an **intimate interaction** between one Anthony J Lockwood, esq and a mysterious young woman at Gemma's Gelato in the downtown district. The two were seen walking about, holding hands after a luncheon at Jet's Diner a few blocks away. Observant park-goers also witnessed the lovers **carving their initials into a tree!** The two were last seen at the aforementioned ice cream parlor, where, after several **tantalizing moments** , the date culminated in a **long, slow** **kiss** outside the shoppe. Several onlookers - myself included - couldn't help but clap at this **tender display of affection**.

But who is this **new lady**? What woman could catch the attention of the attractive and confident Tony Lockwood? None other than his associate, Lucy Carlyle. It looks as though Anthony has finally **overcome the tragic loss** of his family and shared his heart with another. From what we can tell, she is an **unconventionally beautiful** girl of surprising talent.

Obviously, neither of them were available for questioning, but that did not stop this faithful reporter from getting the first scoop! Holly, a mutual friend and coworker, tells us, "I'm so glad they finally got around to this. **They'd been trying to hide their feelings for quite awhile now** , but it was only a matter of time."

It seems as though a little **workplace romance** is in bloom! Is their relationship in danger of compromising Lockwood's agency? Holly tells us not to worry - the Lockwood and Co team will still be in **tip-top shape**. "Lucy and Lockwood have always worked amazingly well together. I'm sure that things will be running perfectly now that all their **nervous tension is gone**."

Stay tuned for further **Locklye** updates, dear readers! "Our First Date: exclusive interview with Anthony and Lucy," **coming soon**!

…

A/N: This was intended to be a oneshot, but… I thought of more to the story. It'll be less fluff from here on out though, just to warn you. And there will probably only be two more chapters.

My ego is about as voracious as a hungry George Cubbins. It needs your reviews to survive almost as much as he needs biscuits. Please, don't let me - I mean George - starve…


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

A/N: You asked for more… and I thought of more. This chapter isn't nearly as lighthearted as the first, but I think it's kinda necessary for the story as a whole. Enjoy.

…

Lucy's nervous tension was not gone. It was exponentially worse than before. It's only been a week since that first article was published, and she is already at her breaking point.

" _You look horrid_ ," her evil little sidekick commented.

"Shut up, you."

Her first problem was physical exhaustion. Their plan to not only spy on the Fittes goons but also gain some publicity worked far too well. Lucy spent her days wandering around the city with Lockwood. She was amazed at how, simply by having the purpose "out for a walk on a date," they were able to get away with being pretty much anywhere. They went into shops they otherwise would never have been allowed into. They were given access to back alleyways and forgotten corners of the city. They were even permitted to sit for long periods of time in one place. Had they tried any of these as friends or tourists, they would have been admonished for troublemaking, trespassing, and loitering. As long as everyone thought Lucy and Lockwood were more interested in each other than the world around them, no one paid them any mind.

" _Did you at least figure out what they're up to today_?"

"Nothing new - they're just investigating possible Sources. They'll probably be gone by tonight, as usual."

" _And you're just going to let that happen?_ "

"It's not like we have time for it!"

Lucy spent her nights, as usual, combating ghosts. Calls poured in every day, from increasingly important people, with cases that proved to be on level with the group's talents. Lockwood was loath to turn down more than they had to, with the result that they were back to splitting up in order to take care of everything. And, since the majority of callers specifically requested 'the cute couple from all the magazines,' this usually meant that she and Lockwood would visit both places to meet the owners of the establishments, only to split up for the actual case that night. They were booked for the next month.

" _Oh, you poor baby. Tell me, what do you think is going to happen to all those Sources she's collecting? Mark my words, they're not going to the furnaces_."

"I know this already!"

" _Touchy, touchy_ …"

Simple physical tiredness would be one thing, but Lucy had begun to notice that her psychic sense of Touch was getting stronger, to the point where it was almost out of control. The interview with Maisy was only one example. She and Lockwood entered into the room and headed for their seats. At the last second, Lockwood insisted on pulling his chair out for her to sit in. Thinking nothing of it at the time, she found out later Lockwood had seen a death glow in the chair she was heading for and wanted to spare her the trouble without alerting the adults. Adults could be strangely thin-skinned about such things. At any rate, his efforts hadn't stopped her from touching the chair as they were about to leave.

She was lost in the memories and emotions of that chair for a full five minutes. Such episodes were beginning to drain her mentally, and it was becoming more and more difficult to detangle the sensations of the dead from her own.

" _Say, want to take me downstairs? It's been awhile since I've seen old Locky_."

The last time she'd touched the jar, she'd learned all about the events surrounding his death. Not to mention the murders that occurred as different relic men had tried to gain possession of him over the years. It was enough to make her pass out.

"Absolutely not. I don't want to know any more of your bloody history."

To say the least, she and her pretend boyfriend were burnt out. Yesterday, George had found them on a park bench, asleep and snoring on each other's shoulders. There was an article about it the next day, complete with a rather embarrassing picture. Lucy couldn't help but be glad that he looked just a ridiculous as she did.

Speaking of which, the magazines were her second problem. Primarily because they were all lies. The first article by Maisie-tells-it-all was only the start, leading readers to believe that some kind of epic, cinema style kiss had transpired. It was a peck on the cheek, and no one had seemed to notice at the time.

" _Well, I suppose it was worth a try. The murderous rage doesn't belong to you by the way. Not yet, at any rate_."

"Gee, thanks. I'm so lucky to have a vicious ghost tell me which emotions belong to me."

" _So ungrateful! Kids these days_ …"

Each newspaper, magazine, and reporter portrayed her in a different way, to the effect that Lucy was unsure of her own identity. The lingering echoes of her Touch certainly didn't help. Some journalists used adjective like "cute," "precious," or "adorable." Adjectives that Lucy would never have considered applying to herself, and yet if so many saw her that way…

The worst, however, was easily the article in the Daily Dish by Irma Wool. The reporter had blatantly called her a "plain, bedraggled, and desperate young woman who is clearly out of Anthony Lockwood's league." She even went so far to suggest that Lucy was collecting Sources to bewitch Lockwood into loving her. And, to Lucy's horror, there were people who believed it. She was unsure which was worse: those who believed and hated her for how they thought she was treating Lockwood, or those who believed and begged her to share her secret so they could manipulate the men in their own lives.

"Besides, taking you out of this room is out of the question. If anyone discovers I can talk to Type Threes, _everyone_ will think I'm some kind of witch."

" _Which isn't too far from the truth, if we're talking about you temperment. I knew this one old hag_ -"

"Shut up."

Over the past week, their "dates" had become less and less productive due to the people - usually teenage girls, but some were grown adults - who interrupted to ask for autographs. Or, by people - again, usually teenage girls with a few adults mixed in - who attempted to 'save' Lockwood from Lucy's grasp. This in particular had happened at least once a day, with increasing regularity.

" _Well, look at you. I suppose that dress hides your hip problem, but the color does nothing for your complexion._ "

"Holly says it-"

" _It's not working, trust me._ Nothing _works like a lowered neckline_." The vile thing winked at her.

"And then I'd be a floozy as well as an enchantress. No, thank you very much."

When she wasn't pretending to be enamored with Lockwood in view of the public, she was pretending to be enamored with him in private interviews. Reporters were in and out of the house, and she and Lockwood were often forced to answer intimate questions about their lives together, only for their words to be hyperbolized and twisted.

It was enough to drive anyone mad. For the first few days she and her friends had had some good laughs at the patently stupid ways the reports and articles handled their relationship. By now, however, it was all Lucy could do not to tear the faces off every journalist she came across. Even her mother had given her a confused call, asking what was going on. At least the people she cared about most, the other members of the Lockwood and co agency, knew the truth.

Unfortunately, Lucy had one more problem. One that couldn't be shared with her friends. One that she had only recently been able to admit to herself.

That problem was, of course, Lockwood.

" _Lucy… you really should get away from him._ "

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were actually concerned."

Unbeknownst to Lockwood, Lucy's heart was being chipped away, piece by piece. This was because, on that first pretend date, she had finally realized what all her strange emotions towards Lockwood meant: she fancied him. No, it was more than that… she was pathetically devoted to him. She had been from the start.

He, on the other hand, seemed to think this was all a game, and was perfectly content to play pretend. This hurt Lucy more than she could put into words, and the fact that she was pretending that she was only pretending twisted her thinking even further.

" _Trust me, I remember what you were like when you had your own place. You were strong. You were free. And you weren't going mad._ Your _emotions affect_ me _, remember. And I'm getting tired of all your pining. It's deplorable._ "

But the real kick to the gut, the rotten cherry on the top of her miserable, personality split sundae, was Lockwood's absurd notion that they should _practice_. As if being a convincing couple was learned as easily as a ward knot or how to best throw a magnesium flare.

And so, even while they were at home, Lockwood would casually peck her on the cheek or sling his arm across her shoulder or around her waist. He would sit next to her while they ate so he could get used to holding her hand at the same time. He would wink. He would flirt. And, worst of all, he would smile. That terrible, wonderful smile that warmed her heart and shattered it at the same time.

It was all pretend.

And it was destroying her.

…

Striving for a semblance of normalcy, she skulked down to the basement in order to get in some solitary rapier practice, away from the whispering skull. It lasted only a few minutes before Lockwood came down, ready to see if she'd perfected the latest move. She had, and they began sparring.

"Don't overreach there, you open yourself up," he said, taking advantage of the weakness he'd pointed out. She grunted and fixed it.

"I've been thinking, Luce…" He swiped, she blocked.

"Don't strain yourself."

He grinned. "It's only a matter of time before the photographers start insisting on a kiss. Watch your stance there, you're getting off balance. We've been able to avoid it so far, but we've been dating for a week now. I don't think we'll be able to hold off much longer. Keep your feet under your shoulders, remember."

"What are you saying Lockwood?"

"I just think our first kiss should be in private, so we know what we're doing later on." His rapier flashed in a complex ward knot. It was one of his favorite moves, so she knew how to block it. "You may be surprised at this Lucy, but - good parry! - I've never actually kissed anyone before."

Lucy was very surprised indeed. She let the shock flash across her faces, but didn't let it impact her swordplay. Between battling ghosts, fending off reporters, and interacting with Lockwood, she'd gotten used to keeping her emotions in check. That didn't stop her heart from flopping out of her chest and splattering onto the floor. She could imagine it trying to feebly crawl away.

"Me neither," she admitted. "Thing is, Lockwood, I'm really not comfortable doing something like that, especially in front of a camera. At least, not yet," she corrected, seeing the look on his face. He'd been strangely touchy lately. "And besides," she slashed at his feet, causing him to jump. "I don't really want my first kiss to be pretend, do you?"

"No, I suppose not really… I… I see your point." She took advantage of his distracted tone to wedge the rapier from his hand like he'd shown her. It fell the floor with a crash, right where she imagined her heart was. She could feel the chill of the iron slice through the fictitious organ.

"I'm going to go shower before our next client comes."

"Right. Good thinking. Er, Luce?"

"What?"

"If you change your mind... will you let me know?"

She sighed, mumbled "fine," and dashed up the stairs without looking back.

…

Holly found her an hour later, still stifling sobs into her pillow. She hadn't showered yet.

"Lucy - so sorry - I was just grabbing your laundry basket. Gracious, are you alright?" Holly closed the door once she finally understood what Lucy was doing alone in her room. "Of course you're not, you poor thing. Is this about that Daily Dish article? Because you know anyone with an ounce of sense doesn't believe it."

Unable to bring herself to speak, and unwilling to admit the full truth, Lucy nodded. The article was not too far off from the real issue anyway - she felt disgusting, and not just because she was still sweaty from rapier practice. Holly's effortless beauty had always made Lucy feel inadequate, and in this particular moment, Lucy couldn't help but wonder if any of the magazines would dare call Holly "plain" or "desperate" or a "sorceress." She firmly doubted it. The article was right, however: her relationship between Lockwood was impossible and one-sided.

And yet, here was Holly. Stylish, perfect Holly in a dove grey pinafore dress and soft pink cardigan, complete with a white and gold beaded necklace, matching earrings, and soft pink flats. Holly was exactly the kind of beautiful creature everyone thought should be with Anthony J Lockwood, esq. Not for the first time, she wondered if he was starting to regret convincing her to play along instead of Holly. Sure, they'd always worked well together, but that didn't necessarily translate into pretend dates.

"Please, Holly, just… leave me alone," she managed to say as the girl delicately sat on the bed next to her.

Holly pretended not to hear and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. Lucy didn't know of anyone else under the age of 60 who still carried those things around, let alone actually used them. Nevertheless, she allowed Holly to blot away the tears that pooled at the corner of her eyes and wipe away at the snot trickling down the edges of her mouth. Lucy hated herself for crying - especially in front of Holly. Crying like a baby was not something Lucy Carlyle, psychic investigative agent, allowed herself to do. But, for all of Holly's obsessive perfectionism and intimidating good looks, Lucy had come to realize that Holly's friendship was genuine. And the fact of the matter was Lucy missed having a sister to talk to. The skull was certainly no replacement. She relented.

"I've stopped scheduling interviews," the older girl stated. "It's obvious they have no concern for your privacy, and I have made it quite clear there will be no more exclusives until they begin to show some respect." Lucy's sobs had subsided by now, and though the tears kept coming she at least had her breathing almost under control. Holly had begun to peel away the hair sticking to Lucy's face and tucked it behind her ears.

"Now, I really think it best you get a break from this house," she continued as she worked. "While you take a shower, I'll pack an overnight bag for you. I'll finish up everything here, and you can stay at my flat for a few nights. It won't do you any good to keep stewing in all this mess. Almost every other object here has a death or a ghost or a memory attached to it, and I can tell it's draining you. You don't need all of that messing about with your emotions."

"Whu-what'll we tell the boys?"

"That we're having some girl time, and they wouldn't understand. You just leave them to me."

…

Lucy was nervous about staying with Holly. In all the months since starting at Lockwood and co, and despite all the time Holly spent at 35, Portland Row, no one had ever even seen where she lived. The flat was just as Lucy would have expected: crisp, clean, and stylish. The kitchen was white and immaculate, appliances gleaming. Decorations were sparse, but artfully consistent throughout the house. Photographs of her family and friends - including Lucy - were tastefully arranged on one wall of the living room. In other words, Holly's flat was the polar opposite of the cramped, clashing, and cruddy abode that Lucy shared with George and Lockwood.

The guest room was already prepared - no surprises there. It was probably the smallest room in the entire apartment, fitted only with a bed, a side table, and a closet. There was a quilt folded at the foot of the bed, no doubt homemade. And - Lucy fought down a feeling of exasperation - a basket of travel sized toiletries and snacks on the nightstand. Lucy had no idea how often Holly hosted guests, but the girl was painstakingly ready for them. She put down her bag, picked out a chocolate bar, and joined Holly in the kitchen.

She stayed with Holly for three nights. The boys were too busy fighting about something in the sitting room to notice their departure, and by the time Lucy woke the next morning and headed over to the house, Holly had straightened things out and they didn't pester her. She did not go on fake dates with Lockwood for any of the days inbetween, nor did she have to endure any interviews. When they went out on cases, Lucy would meet the clients where she could remain professional with Lockwood, but then leave to work with George, Holly, or Kipps. By the end of her stay, Lucy felt refreshed. And, by the end of her stay, Lucy had told the other girl everything.

Holly, for her part, never pried and never asked. That was what ultimately earned Lucy's trust. Most importantly though, Holly didn't judge her, didn't patronize her, and didn't offer her advice or insist on fixing everything. She just listened.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, Lucy."

"Thank you."

"And… If you think of anything else I can do to help, will you please tell me?"

"I… yes, I will."

"You may not believe this, Lucy, but I want you to know it: I think you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met. I really did miss you when you were gone, and I love having you here. I know we have different… priorities, but… I really do want to be your friend. I truly can't express how honored I am that you would confide in me."

"I want to be your friend, too," Lucy replied softly. "Thank you for listening. And for getting me out of the house for a few days. And for making me tea and taking care of me."

"Really, Luce, it's my pleasure."

"I can't hide from Lockwood for forever, can I?"

"No, you can't. You obviously don't want to, either."

"No… I suppose I don't."

A/N: I want to be a writer when I grow up. Please drop a line and let me know how I'm doing, and how I can grow. Originally, that first section of exposition did not include the conversation with the skull… I hope it added to the story instead of distracted from it. What did you think?

More action next chapter, I promise. Our friends will be back to their swashbuckling, ghost busting ways soon enough. Oh, and Locklyle. Lots and Lots of Locklyle. I assure you I haven't forgotten why you started reading this in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

This was the first case for which Lucy was alone with Lockwood since they'd begun their little charade two weeks ago. Lucy hoped this was the first step to bringing things back to normal.

The client had been one of the first to come to them after the incident, but he didn't seem to be aware of the company's newfound reputation. He was old and balding, and decidedly not the kind of person to follow gossip magazines. Shorter than Lucy with a stocky, flabby frame. He wore navy trousers that day with a brown jacket and a grey shirt that may have once been white. Unfortunately things were already beginning to pile up, and the man was running a business by himself. Finding a day that would fit their mutual schedules was tricky enough, but George had specially requested extra time to research this one. After hearing his story, they were anxious to investigate but decided to let George have a go.

"My wife," the middle aged widower explained, "passed away about two years ago. She was a seamstress, had a little shop in the village and everything, but she had bit of a studio on the third floor of the house. I haven't been up there since she died, at least, not until a few days ago. My son asked if he could borrow my sport jacket for a wedding - he's all grown now, you see - and I told him to go up to the third floor to find it. Well, he comes back downstairs empty handed and asks, 'dad, when was the last time you went up there?' and I told him and he said, 'the entire hallway is covered in cobwebs.' Well, I went to see for myself, and he was right. You can't even see the door at the end of the hall, they're so thick. It was cold up there too. Those are signs of Visitors, aren't they?" He slurped from his teacup.

"You are absolutely correct, Mr. Graham. You were quite right to contact us," Lockwood said with a pleasant smile. "Did you notice anything else? Had your children been aware of a manifestation when they were younger, perhaps?"

"No, that's why this seems so strange. I suppose it's possible Alice kept the cobwebs at bay while she was alive - she always did like a clean house…"

"We are very sorry for your loss, Mr. Graham," Holly added.

"Thank you."

"If I may," George interjected. "I'd be interested to observe the spiders for a few days, if it's all the same to you. It's not often we get a chance to study them _while_ a manifestation is occurring. Besides, with all the calls coming in, we're not likely to get to your house for a few nights at the very least." Classic George, ever prioritizing research.

"I- I suppose that would be acceptable."

"Do you have any idea what may have caused this? Are you aware of any events throughout the house's history?" Lucy asked.

"Well…" His voice was quiet, and as he spoke it lost volume. It was as if he hoped whispering the details of the house would protect him, like hoping a bedsheet could ward off the boogy man. "My wife died in the hospital, if that's what you're asking. But I do believe the previous owners lost a child. The flu virus that year was fairly lethal to infants, if I remember correctly." They had all leaned forward unconsciously, straining to catch his last few words. "The parents divorced each other six months later. The wife… committed suicide. I'm not sure where. And my family bought the house."

Reassuming control of the conversation, Lockwood spoke up. The callous volume of his words gave everyone whiplash. "Thank you very much for bringing this to our attention. We can see that there is some tragedy in the house. We'll have to tread carefully with this one. In the meantime, for your safety, we recommend placing iron strips at the edge of the manifestation. Fresh lavender, silver, or salt are other options, but you really can't go wrong with iron. I'm sure I don't have to tell you to leave the area alone after dark."

"No, of course not. And I have already taken some precautions. We'd laced the house when we bought it, especially after hearing it's history, but we were poor then and a haunted house was all we could afford."

"Excellent. Can you think of any other sensations surrounding the site? No? Alright then. Holly, why don't you and Mr. Graham find the soonest possible opening. This sounds promising. Can I offer you another biscuit?"

"Oh, yes, that would be welcome."

"I'll just refill the plate," Lucy said, getting up and whisking away the tray of crumbs. Hearing about the death of a child always gave her a grey, muted feeling. Not to mention all the stress from the newspapers that was beginning to boil up. She needed to leave the room.

"Thanks, Luce!" George hollered behind her.

By the time she returned, Holly and Lockwood had said their goodbyes and left. George, pen and paper in hand, remained with Mr. Graham, pestering him with more details about the spider infested hallway. Lucy set the plate down between them and left them to it. She almost felt sorry for Mr. Graham - George could go on for hours. It was probably why her coworkers had left so abruptly.

Still, his research had been helpful. Observation of the spiders in addition to a few hours spent in the library meant that Lucy and Lockwood were armed with the knowledge they needed to tackle the house. Apparently, the residence had been built by the previous owners on a plot of land in the process of being cultivated by enterprising business men. The entire street, in fact, was a product of their development. Three lost lives were connected to that house. The death of Charlie Notion was reported in the local paper, and the subsequent divorce of Mr. and Mrs. Notion had been loud and messy. Police reports detailed answering to multiple disturbances, called in by annoyed neighbors. All of this took place about 20 years ago, so it was easy enough to find information on it in the new archive system. George was rather pleased with everything but Mrs. Notion's death, which was underreported compared to everything else. Alice Graham's death was found in a matter of seconds.

The house was placed in the middle of the street, surrounded by its brothers and sisters. Most of the buildings looked as though they had just been popped right out of their mold, as if the developers had twisted an icecube tray. The rest of the houses had been personalized with splashes of paint or scruffs and scrapes over the past 25 years. Trees lined the street, old enough now to form a kind of tunnel. Their branches stretched across the road, leaves brushing up against each other like the hands of lovers who'd gotten on the wrong side of fate. So close, and yet...

Forcing down a feeling of foreboding, Lucy crossed the threshold and ducked into the house.

Lucy and Lockwood made quick work of setting up camp on the first floor. The interior of the residence was sparse and dusty. There was plenty of room for an iron circle, but even the barest of movements sent clouds sweeping up from the floor. Lockwood's flashy coat, gallantly flapping behind him as ever, caused the majority of this.

" _Put some feathers on the edge of that coat and he'd make a better housekeeper than Holly_." The Skull, who had not been happy at being left out of Lucy's little vacation, was as acidic as ever. Holly had put it into her rucksack for her - her sense of Touch was becoming stronger with each passing day.

Much like Mr. Graham's shirt, there may have been color and vibrance to the house in its earlier years, but all of that had been muted by months of melancholy. It was clear the man missed his wife. Lucy could feel his loneliness seeping throughout the house as she took readings on the first floor. There were other emotions, stewing beneath the surface as the sun went down. They crouched there on the edges of her mind, just waiting for the chance to spring the trap. She did her best not to Touch anything just yet, but remained mentally open to the other psychic phenomena.

"Luce?" Lockwood called from upstairs. "Ready to take a look at this hallway?"

"Be right up!" Lucy stashed the thermometer into her pocket, and headed to the stairs. Naturally, her thick agency boots caught on an uneven step. She actually fell _up_ the steps, but she managed to catch herself on the railing.

" _Clumsy, clumsy. It's a wonder you get any work done_."

It was then that the true emotions of the house made themselves known. Fury raged at her down the staircase. She heard shouting, writhing and vicious tones echoing from the past. Accusations and protestations. It was a veritable ocean of anger, beating its waves against the shore, pounding, pounding, pounding away, grinding her brain into sand.

And then a riptide of guilt threatened to sweep her off her feet.

Instinctively, she pushed off of the railing, but she hadn't properly regained her balance from the trip up the stairs. Her body paused for a moment, suspended in the air, giving potential energy a moment to collect itself. Still reeling emotionally, her hands blindly rotated in the nothingness, feebly searching for balance or purchase. She tilted her head back to shout for help, but this shifted her gravity in the worst possible way. Backward, toward the foot of the stairs she fell.

Suddenly, miraculously, Lockwood was there. She should have known: he was always there for her. His hand clasped her forearm and wrenched her forward. He sat on the step above her in order to keep their collective weight under control. She toppled onto him, feet sweeping out from under her. He held her. Still _practicing_ then.

"Luce? You alright there? What happened?"

"Touched the railing… felt the- the anger... from the divorce... And the guilt. So much guilt. Had to get away…" She was taking ugly, deep breaths between phrases.

"Did you hear me calling for you? I must've said your name a dozen times…"

"What? No… I only heard it once. When you said to come upstairs."

"Well, you were clutching that railing for a solid five minutes. I came to check on you, and there you were with your eyes all glazed over and your mouth barely open… It looked like you weren't breathing. I even waved my hand in front of your face. I've seen you Sense objects before Luce, but this was just… eerie."

"I'm… sorry?"

"There's no need to apologize." He helped her stand, taking care not the let her bare hands touch the walls. "Let's just focus on staying safe from here on in."

"Yeah. Of course."

" _Well, look at you! Managing a little flirtation, I see… Nicely done, playing damsel in distress. I actually thought you wouldn't make for a moment it there_."

"Sorry to disappoint, Skull," Lucy muttered.

" _Finally talking to me, are you_?"

"Only if you help. Do you sense anything?"

" _Aside from your beating heart_?"

"Not helping."

" _Lots of emotional trauma. Nothing distinct yet_."

"Still not helping."

" _Perhaps, if you let me out…_ "

"Still not happening."

They'd come to the third floor landing. The stairs hugged the right wall of the house's interior from the first to the second floor (where Lucy had fallen), and the left wall from the second to the third. Stupid place felt like a maze. They'd had to walk the long hallway on the second floor in order to reach the next level. The landing was only one square meter, with a door directly across from the stairs and the hallway to their right.

Mr. Graham and George hadn't been exaggerating. There was literally a solid wall of cobwebs within three feet of the landing. The pair stood, gaping, as tiny dots with eight legs scuttled in every direction. The house below may have been grey with dust, but this hallway was silvery white and black. They could see where George attempted to scrape away at the corners and in the center, trying to gage how quickly the spiders would reassert themselves.

Fury and guilt began to trickle back into Lucy's awareness. Lockwood offered her some gum to combat the stench of sickness and decay wafting from the hall. Her sense of foreboding returned. Something terrible happened here, and she felt responsible for it.

These sensations, she knew, were the secondary effects of a haunting: miasma, malaise and creeping fear. Still, knowing what it was did not necessarily make her feel any better.

"It's a strong one," She commented. "I feel like it's all my fault…"

"Same. My eyes are watering, the smell is so potent. We'll have to be extra careful with this one. It's too bad we couldn't have the whole team for this."

"Nothing we can do about that now, though. I'll get the chains out."

"Right." He'd come to a decision, she could tell, but wasn't sure what he'd been deciding between until he said, "Observation only tonight, I think. No good taking chances. This is obviously an intense manifestation and I won't be risking our lives more than we have to."

"Got it."

"Has the Skull given you any insight?"

"Nope, just the usual garbage. It's probably scared, or going soft."

" _That won't work on me, Lucy. I know you too well_."

"Well, once we get the iron set up we can start making our way down the hall. I wonder if it's concentrated here, or if it's in one of the bedrooms…"

"Only one way to find out," she said, taking out a crowbar. George had suggested wrapping the webs about a stick like candy floss. Lucy hadn't felt the need to bring extra gear, so they'd decided on using the crowbars. Lockwood brought his out, and they got to work.

It was slow, and tedious. They had to be careful since they had no knowledge of when or where the ghost would manifest, but it was unlikely they'd be able to see much through strands. Despite her best efforts, she simply could not stop the cobwebs from building up on her clothes and in her hair. It stuck to everything. Lockwood seemed to fair a little better, but not by much. The webs gathered on him like tinsel, draping his jacket in moonlight. In contrast, she look like she'd crawled out of a zombie cave.

"Mr. Graham seems to have become a recluse," she mentioned, breaking the silence. It was so good to be working at his side, even if the task was grueling. "Only seems to go into the kitchen and out the door. He's left a pretty clear path in the dust. And you could tell which room was his on the second floor there."

"Yeah, it was the only knob that turned. The rest of them were stuck - I was only able to open a few of them, but the rooms that were available all had cobwebs on the ceiling."

"Did you happen to seen any Death Glows?"

"None. Hear anything?"

"Aside from the shouting on the stairs back there… no. But that feeling of guilt is almost overwhelming."

"It's a good thing you're so strong," he grinned at her, and winked. More practice. Lockwood never did anything halfway. She just looked away and concentrated on swirling the webbing around her crowbar. There was now a huge glob at the end, and they'd only gotten a few feet in. "Did you think to put the kettle on? It's so cold…"

"I was about to when you called me upstairs."

Even though she was sweating with the effort of waving that metal crowbar around, she could feel the temperature dropping. Fog began to billow around their feet. A cup of tea sounded wonderful right about then.

"Something's starting," Lockwood said, pausing to better concentrate on the phenomena.

"I know," she agreed.

"Luce...I want to tell you something."

Trust Lockwood to wait until they were in mortal peril to finally open up. "Yeah?"

"You're right."

"I'm right about a lot of things. What is it this time?"

"About pretending. I don't want my first kiss to be pretend, and I don't want to pretend with you anymore."

"Me neither. This whole thing has been -"

The conversation could have gone anywhere at that point, but it didn't get the chance. A door to their right slashed open violently, slicing through the cobwebs and catching Lucy's shoulder.

" _Look out for that specter there_!" the Skull lazily warned.

"A little more of a heads up next time!" She shouted at it.

" _You were busy! I didn't want to…_ interrupt. _Oh, and by the way- it's after_ you _in particular_."

"What? Why?!"

" _I've told you this before, Lucy. You're practically a neon lighthouse. It's hardly even noticed your boyfriend over there._ "

She and Lockwood looked into the room. The gust that had opened the door had also busted through the webbing that was in front of it, so the view was strangely clear. It too had been covered by cobwebs, but since the space was bigger it must've been more difficult for the spiders to connect to the center. That didn't stop them from trying. The corners of the room had vanished, leaving a rounded semblance of a wall. Amorphous shapes gathered at the edges, but the objects they once were - perhaps sewing machines? - had been completely obscured. Lucy felt like she was looking into an egg sac. Now did not seem like a good time to remember how some spiders eat their young.

Frost and fog roiled across the floor, white and grey as snow drifts. Floating in the midst of it all was a Visitor. Spectral light wafted off of her, a mournful glow casting shadows on the surface of the webbing. Her face was a smooth, blank oval on the tip of her neck - mouth, nose, and ears gone. Only the whites of her eyes remained. Skeletal fingers raked at the tufts of hair protruding from her scalp. Her head strained against her own grip: while the knees buckled and the back arched, the chin was pointed upward.

 _It's all my fault_ … the hoarse voice tickled within Lucy's brain. It was an itch she could not reach, but maybe there was another way to scratch at it.

"C'mon" she said to Lockwood, "the Source is probably in here somewhere." She crossed the threshold of the room.

"Observation only tonight, remember? We need to get back to the iron circle, see what it does." He'd begun to reach for her, to pull her back to safety.

The door slammed shut in between them.

...

A/N: originally, this was going to be the last chapter... but then it got really long. I'll update again soon, no worries.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A/N:

In the interest of fairness, we'll say the story ends with this chapter. I have an idea or two of what could happen next, but in all honesty it took me long enough to post this one, and I really don't think I'll get around to writing fanfiction for a while. Please enjoy:

...

The room was utterly disorienting, to say the least. It was the same sensation of falling asleep for seconds, yet dreaming the most vivid of visions. This often happened whenever she was forced to attend a boring meeting immediately after spending the night fending off Visitors, something which occurred with depressing regularity while she worked freelance. Only now, in this haunted room, she dipped back and forth between the present horrors and the terrifying memories.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid" Lucy muttered to herself, her words timed perfectly with Lockwood's bashing against the door. She'd heard his yelp of pain when the door slammed in his face, but that didn't stop him from giving it his all with the crowbar. It had taken him a few seconds to scrape off the coating of spiderwebs, but with every strike his attempts became more ferocious. Any moment now, she knew, he'd bust through that door.

Trouble was, she didn't think she'd last that long.

Lucy noticed the howling that echoed from the past, the torrents of wind that ripped the cocoon of webbing apart, and the specter floating gently towards her with outstretched arms. She noticed the cold that was beginning to turn the tips of her face and fingers blue with frostbite.

She noticed them, but they were not her primary concern. The present reality was insubstantial. Something else had her attention. Something else had locked it's icy grip around her heart and was burning her from the inside out. It made her vision blurry with tears, it made her lungs gasp for breath, it made her blood pound in her ears. It was all she could do not to scream.

A raw and wild sensation of guilt had overcome her. In the few seconds it had taken for Lucy to get herself trapped, she had rifled through one memory after the next. At first, she was dragged into the past. Without touching anything, she was beginning to see the memories and experience the emotions of the specter, who could only be the late Mrs. Notion. Grief and shame and despair. The loss of their son, the dissolution of her marriage, and the last night of her life.

And then the events were from her own past: the night at Windborn Mill, the night she'd taken Annie Ward's locket and set the house on fire, the argument with Holly at the department store, even Harold Muller's death…. All were disastrous occurrences, and all were instances for which she felt directly responsible. Facing them all at once was more than she could handle. Lucy fell to her knees.

The sudden movement of her own body, the pain of her knees hitting the hard floor, and a painfully sharp voice cut through the din. Her mind was once again aware of her surroundings, even if she was unable to cope with them.

" _Lucy!_ " It was the Skull. " _Pull yourself together. Tell your boyfriend to get his emotions in check or he'll get you killed."_

"L-Lockwood!" She cried out weakly. The pounding on the door did not stop.

Her mind was still rocking back and forth between what was happening now and what had happened then, like some kind of interdimensional yo-yo. Between each memory, the Visitor crept closer, winking in and out of her sight. It reminded her of a strobe light, from one of her pretend dates with Lockwood. The light would flash, and he would be in one place until the next flash, during which he'd move without being seen.

Flash: the ghost was three meters away. Flash: images of a crib. Flash: two meters away. Flash: a painstakingly crafted quilt. Flash: only one meter now...

She threw a salt bomb at the ghost to slow it down, then stood back up. She was in a daze "Lockwood!"

"Lucy, just hold on, I'm almost through!" His voice was muffled through the door, but it was his tone that scared her. He did not sound like the cool, composed Lockwood she'd come to know these past few years. Nevertheless, the emotion in his voice was familiar… She knew where she'd heard him sound like this before.

"Lockwood… you need to go for help."

"No, Lucy, I'm not leaving you trapped in there." The way he'd said her name. It had the same ring as the night he'd lost his sister, Jessica.

"I can hold it off for a few minutes." This probably wasn't true, but he didn't need to know that. The visitor had barely flinched at Lucy's salt bomb. She threw another one anyway.

"Do you even have your chains?"

"No, they're on the landing, at the edge of the webs." Another flash, another heartbreaking memory. The sensation of being pregnant.

"Spirit cape's in my bag." He cursed. "No question then, I'm busting down that door and we'll both make a run for it. Take cover - I'm going to use a magnesium flare!"

Lucy slashed at the ghost with her rapier. It wisped away, ectoplasm spurting against her coat, but reformed almost as the quickly as she'd cut it.

" _You know...this one might actually get the best of you. That was a terrible swing, even I could do better, and I have no hands_."

"Lockwood, you need to leave. Call George, or DEPRAC." But he wasn't listening. Cursing, she rolled away from the door - and out of reach of the sweeping Mrs. Notion.

The force of the blast sent her reeling. Scrabbling against some kind of shelving, desperately trying to regain her balance, she grasped a solid metal mechanism that had been enveloped by cobwebs. The webbing stuck to her fingers, but before she could pull away her mind was sent hurtling off.

Feelings of excitement tingled through her: anticipation and joy and sheer nervousness. She could hear the whirr of the machine, smell the fresh cotton scent. Soft fibers whispered at her fingertips as she patiently worked, creating a blanket for the baby - her baby.

Just as suddenly she was torn back into her current predicament. The warm and bubbling happiness she'd just experienced only made the present more heartbreaking, more difficult to endure.

" _Duck_!"

She hit the ground, more out of exhaustion than obedience. Her rucksack shook with impact, and the ghost jar rolled over her head and clanked against the floor.

" _I swear, Lucy, if you lose me again_ …"

"Lucy - are you okay?!"

Once again, she plunged into the tormented past. This time, she came face to face with the hollow boy.

 _I show you the future. This is your doing. Will it happen tonight?_

"No," she moaned. Dimly, she was aware of a soft and gentle weight on top of her. Her mind began to clear. The wretched feelings weren't gone completely, but at the very least she was able to separate who she was from Mrs. Notion's memories. She could recognize the ghost lock which had taken hold of her. The malaise. The creeping fear. These things were familiar sensations, but never before had she been so overwhelmed by them. Now that her head was clearing, she could see these sensations for what they were. She could breath.

She was under the spirit cape.

Finally in control of her mind, and capable of seeing clearly, she looked up to find Lockwood in the heat of battle. His sword flashed, his coat swept, his movements confident once again. Standing with his back to her, he whipped about in an attempt to force the Visitor back.

It wasn't working.

" _Better hurry. This old spinster is about to finish him_."

She shifted, trying to get her knees under her body. Even under the cape, she was shaking and unstable. She managed to push her elbows off the floor, then slowly forced herself onto her toes. Finally, with all the strength she had left, she pushed off with her hands and knees to stand. The cape slipping in the process.

Her shoulder burned with the cold - it wasn't as bad as falling while on the Other Side, but it was enough to jar her. Better yet, her brief emergence into the Visitor's perception distracted it long enough for Lockwood to get the upper hand.

"Lockwood -"

"Lucy, you need to get out of here. I'll hold her off."

"That's a stupid idea. Just get under the cape with me."

"Right."

" _Don't forget_ me."

"Coming, coming…"

She stumbled, fighting to keep herself upright. Lockwood slashed, fighting to keep the Visitor away. He began to back his way toward her, and she rested her hip against the table, taking care not to allow the object to touch her skin.

The ghost, however, began to attack all the more furiously. Gusts of wind whipped around the room, sending web covered items crashing into the walls. Leftover embers from the magnesium flare were snuffed out. Sheets of webbing were ripped from the room's edge and twisted into ropes and blobs. A particularly threatening shape with a disconcerting amount of sharp angles very nearly slammed into her face before crashing into now exposed drywall. Lockwood was only a meter away when Mrs Notion dove for him.

Lucy lunged. It was not the most graceful of rescues - the two of them landed with a smack onto the floor. His rapier clanged away and was swept up in the drafts of cobwebs. The important thing, however, was that he was under the cape. Which also meant he was under Lucy.

" _Awkward_ …" The skull sang.

"Sorry" she mumbled into his coat.

"My head…" He moaned. "Lucy, next time you save my life, would you mind not causing physical damage?"

"Like you're the one to talk. Most of your rescues have involved jumping off a building."

"Those weren't rescues, they were escapes, and if you'd had any better ideas you didn't share them."

"You got us into that trouble in the first place."

"We can argue about trouble another time. I'm ready to get out of here."

"Fine," she agreed. "Will we actually walk out the door this time, or is there a window you want to smash before we set the house on fire?"

"Well, at the moment, your elbow is digging into my stomach, so maybe we can start there?" He flashed his trademark grin.

"Sorry!" She cried, embarrassed. Then undertook the tricky task of maneuvering her body off of his without either to them exposing themselves to the still seething Mrs. Notion. She was unable to get close while the cloak was covering them, but that didn't stop her from floating nearby, vigilant for any opportunity to strike.

Violent wind threatened to tear the cloak from them, but Lucy bunched her end in her fist, and saw Lockwood do the same. He put his other arm around her waist, as casually as if they were actually dating. She stiffened on instinct, then forced herself to relax. Now was not the time for that.

"I need to get the Skull."

"Of course."

Mrs Notion's glistening form leered after them, as close to the cloak as she could manage. Lucy waited until the jar was under the sweeping fabric before she reached for it, careful that no part of her body left its protection.

" _About time you remembered dear old me_."

"Stop complaining and say thank you. I could have waited until daylight."

" _I'm far too valuable for that. Besides, we're friends now, remember?_ "

"But you're not in any danger. Use your manners, or I'll close the tap."

" _You wouldn't_ -"

She twisted it closed. With gusto.

Exhausted, she allowed Lockwood to lead her out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen where they could call for a night cab. They remained under the cloak the entire time.

"Too bad you never put the kettle on, Luce," Lockwood sighed.

"Yeah well, guess you'll just have to wait until we get home."

...

They sat silently for a few moments on the curb, still under the cloak. It would have been an odd sight to any passersby, had anyone been brave and stupid enough to be out after dark anymore. The air was chilly despite its coverage, but not psychically so. It actually helped Lucy clear her head. Starlight peaked through the trees, and the faint smell of woodsmoke and cut grass hovered around them.

"Lucy…"

"Yeah?"

Lockwood tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away. "You really need to stop pretending. And practicing. And interviewing and dating and all the rest. I'm backing out."

"Why?"

"Why do you think? Because I'm tired of it. I hate being in the spotlight like that, and you know it. Visiting Holly was the first time I felt like myself in weeks. Aside from those first few dates we haven't gotten anywhere closer to figuring out what Fittes is up to. And I'm sorry if we stop getting jobs if we break up, but I'm backing out now. You said we can stop whenever I want and I want to stop now."

"So our pretend relationship is officially over?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes," he said definitively. "I haven't exactly enjoyed the act, either."

"Well, now that that's sorted…"

"I can't help but detect a hint of bitterness in your voice, Lucy. We have been spending a lot of time together, you know."

"Well that's just it, Lockwood. All that time, and you never opened up, not once. I don't know anything more about you today than I did a month ago. You've barely actually spoken to me since we went to the Other Side."

"Well, I'm not exactly the kind of person who wears his heart on his sleeve."

"No, you're the kind of person who locks it away in an iron bound room." She didn't try to hide the hurt in her voice. "After all we've been through together, and I still don't know you. Not really. You hide almost everything from us."

He was silent for a moment. "I want to tell you something."

"I'm listening," she huffed defensively.

"I was pretending, but not in the way you think."

"And what did I think?"

"That I was only pretending to date you. Truth is, Luce, I've fancied you for months now. This was just an excuse so I didn't have to actually admit to anything, but I can see that it hurt you and… I'm sorry." He offered his hand, but she could only stare at it. "I didn't want to do anything to risk you leaving again."

She was blushing, still looking at his open hand.

"I should be mad at you." She said.

"I wouldn't blame you if you were."

"But I'm not."

"Well, that's… nice. Thanks."

Lights flashed at the end of the street, coming this way. Lucy stood abruptly, finally allowing the cloak to slip off her shoulders.

"That'll be the nightcab."

"Lucy…" he said as he stood, tucking the cloak into his rucksack as the car pulled up next to them.

She turned, looked him in the face for a full minute. The cabbie was getting impatient. He rapped on the glass, and the moment was shattered as they went about the business of bundling into the car with their bulky gear. It was squashed between them in the back seat. The silence was only broken by the cabbie's desperate attempts at conversation, but they died quickly. He'd taken them home before, so there was no need to give directions, but doubtless his observations of their behavior would make it to the gossip columns. Lucy didn't care.

They stood on the pavement outside 35 Portland Row, rucksacks strapped to their backs. Lockwood started heading for the door, but Lucy took his hand.

"I forgive you," she said, watching his face. "I… I feel the same way."

He flashed her the most genuine grin she'd seen in weeks. It was her favorite, the one that took up his entire face, and lit up the haunted night with its warmth. Her heart melted in its radiance, and she felt herself smiling in return.

They walked, hand in hand, back into the house.


End file.
